He whom Thy love makes glad as with new wine, He knows that knowledge which is from above; Full blest is he; that fulness is Divine, And there is nothing else that he can love. Thou art the Fount of pity; as it flows All drink of Thine abundance infinite : Thou art the only Sun Thy country knows ; Scatter the clouds, and show us Thy true light. ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST BEHEADED IN PRISON. AT THE FIRST VESPERS. I will speak of Thy testimonies also even before kings, and! will not be ashamed.-PSALM CXix. "Quis ille sylvis e penetralibus." WHO hither comes from shrines of the dark wood, With voice that sternly cries; and as he goes Hang on his words a growing multitude? His is no brow that swells with fancied woes, Nurs'd in a palace or a court's repose: No reed is he which to the moaning gale Waves its tall shadow in the moon-light pale. For thrice-ten years in desert haunts profound And the deep wild now hears again the sound Who with his spirit bold and might endued And now admitted to the kingly hall Unto the subtle tyrant he draws near; To Thee, O God, the Father, Spirit, Son, All love, all might, all glory be to Thee, Make Thou them meet to sing Thine endless praise. AT MIDNIGHT. I am horribly afraid for the ungodly that forsake Thy Law.— PSALM CXix. "Impune vati non erit, impotens." NOR shall the Prophet 'scape unharm'd; The adultress, stung with guilt, with fury arm'd, Fires the fierce king: ever allied Murder and lust shall ravin side by side. Alas where guilty passion reigns! Innocent hands are given to felon chains, But that free voice which truth commands Cannot be held with chains, nor feel the prison bands. E'en in the dungeon's silent gloom That they the Lord of life by proof may know. The prisoner triumphs in his dungeon seat: Keeps watch with silent scourge, and sleepless eye within. O Lord, our hearts and hands we raise, AT THE MATTINS. I say unto you that Elias is come already, and they knew him not, but have done unto him whatsoever they listed.-MATT. xvii. "Ecce, saltantis pretium puellæ." BEHOLD, the price of courtly dance, The head of Christ's great harbinger! Hush'd is that voice and tongue, and ne'er again shall stir. |